Mukizu no Senshi Flawless Warrior
by sushisama
Summary: [yaoi/shounen-ai/rape indentications] The Gundam boys meet up with an unknown pilot, that apprantly has met up with Heero before. Angst insues. 1x2/ 2x1: 0x1 ^Re-uploaded and fixed^
1. A Momentary Release

[edit]

Added due to new rule:

As I'm sure we've all noticed, fanfiction.net has decided to get rid of all the NC-17 fanfics. This is a rather large disappointment to me, because a lot of the fics I actually consider to be 'good' are lemons and are now going to be taken off the site. Thankfully, I read this announcement in good enough time to go ahead and copy all the reviews I've gotten on most of the fics. Just because they make me feel all squishy inside. ^-^  
  
When I went in to change the rating on this fic, ff.net would not allow me to edit it or anything, so now I am re-uploading it all. Meaning, I'm losing all my reviews. God damnit. That's just frustrating, you know? Almost all of this fic will be relatively clean, with only references to sexual encounters. There are about nine parts to this fic in total, one of them being a lemon. I will just put that part on my website, ' thirty- second experiment '. The rest of the fic I'll leave up though, and eventually I'll get to posting for it again. Sorry it's taking so long, but I have so many other fics to worry about...  
  
If you all have anymore comments or suggestions, email me or IM me. Or just leave comments. I appreciate all the fans of this fic and I'm really sorry it's taking me so long to update. And I've changed the rating of this fic because I felt that R was appropriate. 

Title: Mukizu No Senshi (Flawless Warrior)

Part: one / ?  A Momentary Release

Authour: sushisama (sbolce@esper.com)

Warnings : shounen ai, sap, OOC (?), 1+2/ 2+1, 0x1

Disclaimer : I do not own the Gundam boys, neither would I want to.  It would be no fun writing about my own characters.  Well, not as fun as reading fan fiction from some adoring fan, at least.  But, I'm side tracking here.  ^-^;;; There would be no point to suing me, though I have money, it isn't much.  

Notes:  This is my first Gundam / yaoi / angst, practically anything fanfic.  Please, be kind but also cruel if you do decide to send me comments.  

            / / = denotes thoughts : [ ] = begins and ends dreaming : ( ) = flashbacks

::*~~*::

            A heavy silence filled the van.  Amethyst eyes turned their gaze to the dark –haired teenager driving the vehicle.

            /Does he even realize he's bleeding..? / Duo snorted in response to his own question.  / The 'Perfect Soldier' probably doesn't even feel any of the pain. /  He ran his fingers through his bangs, encountering tangles and bits of leaves along the way.  He briefly shut his eyes and sighed.  / Washing my hair tonight is going to be a bitch./  When he opened them again, he looked at Heero, the Wing pilot's cobalt eyes still fixed on the road.  Duo fidgeted.  Fifteen minutes of –complete- silence.  That just wasn't right.  Not for the American boy, anyways.

            "Ne, Heero.." he began, realizing he actually didn't have anything to say.  Prussian coloured eyes flashed momentarily at Duo's heart-shaped face, only to then return to the road a second later.  The short glance the Deathscythe pilot received was enough to give him something to further the conversation.  "Do you want me to drive for awhile?  You look beat."

            "I'm fine, Duo," his reply came coldly.

            "Ne, I really think you should let me drive for a while.  Besides – " He pointed a finger at Heero's leg.  "- You really should fix that up.  It might get infected, you know..."

            "Hn," was Heero's only response as he twisted the steering wheel,  parking on the shoulder of the deserted country road.  He opened his door and jumped from the driver's seat to the ground outside.  Duo followed Heero's movements with his eyes as the Japanese boy came around to the passenger side and opened the door.  Duo was then faced with an emotionless glare from his partner, who looked slightly annoyed as well as tired.

            "Well?" Heero snorted, folding his arms over his chest.  "You said that you wanted to switch."

            Duo blinked for a few seconds, then, not wanting to be faced with the Wing pilot's gaze any longer, he fumbled with his seat belt.  Heero stepped out of the way, so that Duo could get out of the van.  While the braided boy was making it around the vehicle, he heard the sound of the passenger door closing.  He hopped into his new seat and shut the door behind him.  He buckled up.

            He put his hands on the key, but before turning it, he peered over at Heero.  Heero looked back at him, soon catching sight of Duo giving him a huge grin.  He reacted by cocking his eyebrow.

            "Remember to buckle up," Duo teased.

            Heero fastened his seat belt as Duo turned the ignition and started the van, heading towards the two-bed hotel room he and Heero were currently sharing.  After another minute of total silence, Duo reached over and flipped on the radio to some Alternative station.  He hummed and sometimes sang to a Papa Roach song as it filled the van's cavity.

            Heero rolled his eyes and was soon digging in Duo's pack for bandages.  The cut on his thigh was six inches long, but not all too deep. Sure, it was still bleeding a little, but nothing all too serious.  The Japanese boy pushed away manga and clothes until he found everything he need.  He at once set out with the task of dressing his wound.

            "What is this called?" Duo snapped from his subconscious singing and looked over at his partner.  Was Heero Yuy initializing conversation?

            "Nani?"

            "This song : what is it called?"

            "Oh, it's _Between Angels and Insects_."

            There was a brief silence.

            "Hn, odd name..."

            There was another pause, this time a long one.  Duo concentrated on the road, wishing he had coffee or something to give him a caffeine boost.

            After about fifteen minutes of Heero's silence and Duo's singing to the radio, the American could feel his braid being lifted.  He gave a quick glance at Heero, who was threading his fingers  in and out of the end of his braid.  He raised an eyebrow to his partner's actions.   /What in the hell is he doing?/

            Heero plucked a leaf from the braid and threw it out his open window to be caught by the wind.  He then began to play with the rubber band that was fastened around the end of the braid, contemplating whether or not to break it.  /Even through a tough mission... his hair is still like silk.../

            The Japanese pilot suddenly snapped to his sense and dropped the mess of hair, withdrawing into his seat, closer to the window.  /Why did I do that?/ Heero could feel the amethyst eyes periodically glancing at his back and then to the road again.  /What was I thinking?  What was so tempting about his hair? To touch it, hold it - /

            "Duo."

            "What is it, Heero?" Duo replied, not taking his eyes of the road.

            "When we get back.. that is.. I-" Heero left off nervously.

            "What, Heero?"

            Heero took in a deep breath.  /Why am I asking this?/ "May I... wash your hair?"

            Duo looked over at him with a dumbfounded look plastered on his face.  It soon faded into a smirk. 

            "Sure, Heero, just don't change your mind by the time we get home, okay?"

            The Japanese boy merely nodded.  He turned from the American, and a small, satisfied smile crossed his lips for a fraction of a second.

::*~~*::

            Once inside, Heero dropped his pack near the couch and immediately went into the bathroom and locked the door.

            Duo threw his pack onto his bed, muttering, "Not going to do a mission report?" He smirked as he heard the shower beginning to run.  The American opened his bag and searched for night clothes.  He was taking off his black shirt when he remembered Heero's offer.  He dropped his shirt carelessly to the floor and jumped onto his bed, putting his hands behind his head, reclining and waiting for Heero to emerge from the shower.  /He probably won't even acknowledge his promise.  He'll come back in here and type away.  I know it. /

            Seven minutes late, the bathroom door opened, allowing some steam to escape.  The Japanese boy stepped out, wearing his normal outfit and drying his hair with a towel.  Duo sat up and looked at him, noticing that he looked kind of  cute with ruffles hair.

            "Go ahead and go in," Heero said flatly.  "I've already drawn the bath.  I'll be in in five minutes. "  With that, the cobalt-eyed boy sat on his bed, pulling out his laptop and beginning the mission report.

            Shinigami blinked for a moment then stood, half-way grinning.  He grabbed the silk shirt and boxers that was his night clothes and walked into the bathroom.  He hung the night clothes upon a hanger on the back of the door.  He shut the door just enough so that there was still a crack there.  He striped from his black pants and cotton boxers, throwing them carelessly aside.

            The American then sank into the filled tub, the water raising with his body weight.  Duo gave out a sigh of comfort, stretching his hands behind his head.

            "Kimochi... Heero got it just the right temperature. "

            Duo relaxed for a moment until he saw the door opening.  He sat up and grinned at the Japanese pilot.  / Is he blushing? / It was a faint blush, but it was still there.  The braided boy's grin grew even wider as he realized this.

            Heero walked over to the towel rack and grabbed one of the thicker towels.  He approached the tub, setting the towel down and kneeling on it.

            "You always get water on the floor, you know that?" Heero's voice was still emotionless.  "Why do you think I always try to get the first shower?"

            Duo chuckled.  "Sorry.  I'll keep that in mind from now on."

            "Hn, whatever." Heero reached over Duo and grabbed the bottle of shampoo in one hand, picking up the American's braid in the other.  He thread his index and thumb between the rubber band and hair and snapped the restraint.  He set the bottle next to him on the floor, using two hands to unbraid the mass and rid it of as much of the leaves and twigs as he could.

            When he was done, he motioned for Duo to lay his head back.  Duo closed his eyes and leaned back.  When the American complied to the request, the Japanese boy instantly set out to dampen the hair as much as he could.  He tilted Duo's head back so that his bangs were submerged but his mouth was still exposed to the air.

            Heero stopped for a second, to stare at the equally exposed neck.  He licked his lips, but then snapped to reality.  /What... what was that about?/ He shook his head, putting his hand to the back of Shinigami's neck and tilting him back up.  The American's eyes were still closed, a small smile across his face.

            Picking up the bottle and opening its lid, Heero dripped some of the soapy substance into his hands.  He rubbed them together, lathering them, and pulled the large mass of chestnut that was floating on top of the water.  He began to massage the shampoo into the hair, as Duo leaned forward a but.  Once the Wing pilot thought he had successfully washed this much of the hair, he dragged into the water, washing off any remnants of the substance.

            He repeated the process, this time washing the hair that was between the middle of back and the end of his neck.  He dipped the American backwards a little in order to rinse.

            When Duo was leaning forwards again, Heero put his hands onto his scalp.  Shinigami let out a small gasp as Heero began to run fingers through his hair.

            /He's so gentle.../ Duo though.  /The 'Perfect Soldier' is being –gentle-... Who would've thought?/

            Heero noticed the growing smile on Duo's face, and the shudder he gave when he had began the scalp massage.  And something about the fact he made the American shudder please him.  He was being gentle on the braided (well, now unbraided) boy because he felt it... necessary. Necessary to treat him gently this one time, if none other.

            The Deathscythe pilot stifled a moan as his massage continued.  After awhile, he just couldn't help and let out a small moan of pleasure.  He relaxed a little more, leaning closer to Heero and his 'magic' fingers.

            Heero extended the massage after hearing Duo's moan.  The scalp was more than ready to be rinsed, but the Japanese pilot wanted to keep Duo in this state of... pleasure.  He wasn't solidified until he heard another moan, this one being a fraction louder and more obvious than the last.  He finally tilted Duo's head back, rinsing it.

            When Heero released Duo so that he could sit up again, one violet eye popped open to look over at Heero, who was reaching across him again.  Now it was time for the conditioner.  Duo closed his eye, an ear-splitting grin across his face. 

::*~~*::

            Duo lifted his head after Heero let go of his hair, water dripping from his hair and face back to the water.  He ran fingers through his own chestnut hair, feeling the silk of each strand, still encountering some tangles, but not as many as before.

            /Heero did a good job,/ Duo mused to himself.  He felt the disturbance of water next to him and looked down to Heero's hands, which he was rinsing off in the cooling water.  He followed the hand to the arms, then to the torso, until his amethyst eyes set on Prussian ones.  Heero's eyes, normally cruel, where softening around the edges.  Duo gave his partner a meaningful smile.

            The Wing pilot removed his hands and stood, going to the other side of the room to fetch a towel to dry his hands off with.  He looked back at the boy in the tub, who had put his arms over the rim, staring at the Japanese pilot.  He looked as if he was disappointed about something.

            "Doushita no?"

            Duo's familiar, mocking grin came across his face.  "Not going to stay and help me finish?"  He grabbed a bar of soap and smiled at Heero invitingly. 

            "Hn," Heero muttered, obviously not amused. "You can do it yourself."  With that he turned and exited, closing the door behind him. Duo stared at the door for a minute.

            /Why did I do that?/  he yelled at himself mentally.  He brought his hand to his brow, shaking his head.  /He probably thing I'm a freak now../

            "I'm such an idiot," he muttered to no one in particular.

            He was answered by the soft, muffled typing from the other room.

::*~~*::

            Twenty minutes had passed by when Heero heard the sound of running water, gurgling, and spitting as Duo brushed his teeth.  The wet American came out of the bathroom, his hair still loose.   It made a small puddle underneath him as he continued to ruffle his hair with his towel.  Heero folded down his laptop and slid it into the drawer between their beds.   He leaned back, sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking over the boy.  He was wearing his black silk night outfit.

            Duo eyed him curiously.  Heero was sitting on –his- bed instead of his own.  Heero reached to the bed stand once more and plucked Duo's favourite brush from it.

            "What's this all about, ne?" The American cross his arms, smirking at his partner.

            The Japanese boy patted the spot in front of him, gesturing for the boy to sit down.  "I thought I might as well brush you hair."

            Duo walked over to the side of the bed and leaned over Heero, his chestnut hair falling over his shoulders.  "Might as well?  What do you mean by that?"

            Heero's cobalt eyes, though still a little soft, peered into Duo's.  Feeling weary under the intense gaze, Duo complied to the Wing pilot's request and sat in front of him, laying his moistened towel across his lap.  Heero lifted the ends of the mass and began to brush out the tangles.  Duo allowed his eyelids to fall; feeling somewhat drowsy already from the mission, the grooming making it worse.

            /Feels so good../ Duo smiled.  /I could fall asleep./

            Duo felt like he was melting under Heero's gentle touch.  He was trying to stay awake, trying to make conversation.  

            "Did you finish the report?"  mocked Duo.

            "Ch'. Of course."

            "Why did you want to wash my hair, Heero?" Duo joked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.  Heero continued to brush his hair, tugging a little.  Another silence fell.  "...Heero?"

            A soft muttering was his reply.

            "What?  You're going to have to speak up. "

            "I don't know why, okay?" Heero's voice sounded somewhat irritated.

            Shinigami could feel his hair being separated as Heero began to rebraid it.  He took a rubber band form around the handle of the brush and fastened it around the end of the braid.  He threw it over Duo's right shoulder.  "There."

            He flung his feet over the side of the bed, ready to get up, when two slender arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him backwards a little.

            Duo pressed his cheek against the back of Heero's right shoulder.  "Arigatou, Heero.."

            "Hn."  The Japanese pilot made no struggle to get up, though he was somewhat irritated by the show of affection. But he was also enjoying the touch of the American. / What am I thinking?  I must be getting soft.  Damn you, Duo.  How are you doing this...? /

            The Deathscythe pilot could feel the muscles in Heero's back tighten.  He smiled to himself as he thought of a way to repay the Wing pilot for his unusual kindness.

            Heero gave a slight shiver when he felt Duo's palms settle on his shoulders and begin to knead at the knots of the muscles.  The attention was most relaxing.  He leaned his head forward, exposing more of his back.

            The Japanese boy felt a little bit disappointed when the warm pals left his back.  He turned his head, his cobalt eyes meeting smiling amethyst ones.

            "Lay down, " Duo requested, voice soft.  Heero hesitated, wondering if it would be a good idea.  Though he wanted more of the attention, he was unsure of allowing the physical contact.

            /Too late for that.../ With that thought, he laid down, turning his head on the pillow.  Duo smiled at him, almost mischievously, and wrapped his fingers around the tail end of his tank top.  Duo's fingers trailed lightly over the stiff back of the Wing pilot while pulling the tank top up so that it was rolled up across his shoulders and neck.

            If Heero –was- going to receive a massage, then he didn't want anything to get in the way.  So, before Duo could lay his hands down, Heero sat up and took the tank top completely off and set it to his side.  He laid back down, head turned to look up at Duo.

            Duo eyed the boy oddly.  With a sigh, he positioned himself onto Heero's backside, sitting on the lower back and top of the rear.  The braided boy shifted so that the majority of his weight was in his upper body.  He looked down at Heero for any signs of discomfort, but was rewarded with Heero giving a tiny smile, his eyelids fallen over his cobalt eyes.

            Duo put his hands on the Wing pilot's back, beginning again with his massage.  He closed his eyes, allowing his movements to become subconscious.

            "Duo," Heero mumbled, as if he were about to fall asleep.  "You don't have to be so gentle. "

            "Like it rough, ne? " Duo snickered.  He continued the treatment, putting more strength behind it, for at least forty minutes, when he realized how slowed Heero's breath had become.  

"Heero...?"

            There was no response.

            Duo smiled as he turned to get a better look at Heero's face.  Heero was sleeping, a tiny smile upon his lips.

::*~~*::

            [ "Please, enough...  I'm in pain... " Cobalt eyes closed, tears beginning to leak from the sides.

            A grinning face came closer, pushing the Gundam pilot against the cold wall of the storage room.  He peered at the younger boy through one gray eye, the other one covered by his thick red and black hair.  "Well, yowai, it doesn't really matter what you want, now does it?" His voice was soft but filled with violence and lust.  He sniffed the air, his grin widening at the scent of the shaking boy's fear.  "I am superior, so –" He began to shove the Japanese boy downwards to kneel before him. "-what I want to do with you is my own damn business."

            His gloved hands unzipped his pants and slid them down to the floor, exposing his erection.  He pushed the dark-haired boy's head so that he was taken completely into his mouth.  The Japanese boy almost gagged.  His cobalt eyes flashed up to his tormentor, pleading for it to end, staring into the one eye he could.

            Heero could feel his hair being pulled as his head was being pushed back and forth to comply to the erection in his mouth.  He couldn't stand the humiliation anymore.  He bit down.  Hard.

            "Itai!"

            Heero was kneed in the chest.  He fell backwards, a boot meeting his midsection soon after.  The assault of blows and kicks continued, until he was picked up and thrown across the room.  He crashed into a wooden crate, splinters burying their way into his back.  Soon, the Wing pilot was hunched over, spitting out blood and a lose tooth.

            The man – no, teenager – crossed the room and picked up the broken pilot, not caring for the bruised ribs he went over.   Heero closed his eyes, wincing and crying.  

            The grin returned to the other's face.  He ripped the shirt and pants that Heero wore, dropping the now shredded clothing to the floor.  He left deep claw marks in his wake.  

            The grin became wicked as he stared at the Japanese boy.  "Now, let's try this again."  ]

::*~~*::

            "Kyaa!"

            Heero bolted upright, screaming.  He hid his sweat-covered head in his hands, panting heavily.  After a few second, his breathing slowed, and he peeked out from behind his hands.  He laid his eyes on an arm that was snaked around his waist.

            "Nnn..." He faced the source of the soft, groggy voice.  Duo was laying beside him, eyes still shut, arm tightening around Heero.  "Heero - ?" He began to sit up, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.  When he realized where his other arm was he retracted it immediately.  "Sorry- !"

            Heero stared at the braided boy, his Prussian eyes meeting amethyst, yet not really noticing them.  He said nothing, visions of his dream still in his mind.

            Noticing the look of hatred in Heero's eyes, Duo thought he was about to be hit, and crawled to the side of the bed, getting ready to stand up.  "Sorry, sorry..." his voice was shaky.  "We'll just switch beds, ne?  Go back to sleep and –"

            Duo let out a yelp as his braid was tugged on, pulling him back onto the bed.  "Heero -?" The American stared at him as he was pushed into the mattress and pillows.  He noticed the streaks of dried tears on the side of the Wing pilot's face.  "Heero?  What's wrong?"

            "Shut up, Duo," his voice came harshly, but had a hint of need in it.  He buried his face into Duo's chest, pulling the covers over them both.  He then wrapped his arms around the confused American's waist, pulling him closer.  "Just shut up..."  Heero grabbed onto the end of Duo's braid, possessively, tugging a little, making an unspoken threat for the Deathscythe pilot not to leave.

            It took Duo a minute to realize what was going on.  Heero was acting like a child who just had a bad dream and needed comfort.  His eyes softened and a smile crossed his lips.  He wrapped his arms around the dark-haired boy's back, pulling him even closer.  He smoothed his hands over Heero's bare back, laying his head atop Heero's hair.

            /Daijoubu, Heero... I'll always be here for you comfort... Zutto../ 

            After a few minutes, Heero's breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep once more.  When sure of his slumber, Duo gave the Japanese pilot a soft kiss on his head and then let himself be overcome with sleep.  


	2. Chance Meetings

Title: Mukizu No Senshi (Flawless Warrior)

Part: two / ?  Chance Meetings

Authour: sushisama (sbolce@esper.com)

Warnings : shounen ai, sap, OOC (?), 1+2/ 2+1, 3+4/4+3 (implied)

Disclaimer : I do not own the Gundam boys, neither would I want to.  It would be no fun writing about my own characters.  Well, not as fun as reading fan fiction from some adoring fan, at least.  But, I'm side tracking here.  ^-^;;; There would be no point to suing me, though I have money, it isn't much.  

Notes:  Thanks to everyone that reviewed the first part.  I really wasn't expecting everyone to like it so much...  That makes me feel all fuzzie inside.  Or maybe that's because of my sinus infection?  I don't know.  *shrugs*  So, by request, I finally typed up part two (you'd better be happy, Gavin).  You must realize, though, that I've actually already _written_ parts one through four and a half.  Whether or not they get typed just depends on how lazy I am.  Hieh.  Anyways, enough with the babbling!  On with the second part.

            / / = denotes thoughts : [ ] = begins and ends dreaming : ( ) = flashbacks

::*~~*::

            On the trip back to the safe house, it was as quiet as the trip back from the mission the day before.  Heero was, again, being the driver of the vehicle while Duo stared out his window.  His thoughts kept going back to the night before and that morning.

            / He wanted me to hold him.  _He_ wanted _me_ to hold him. /  He sighed heavily, getting the attention momentarily of the Japanese pilot.  Duo watched the trees as they went along the road, recalling the entire morning.

            ( Duo awoke to the sight of the Japanese boy still in his arms.  He smiled and nestled his cheek into Heero's hair.

            "Hn..."

            "Are you awake, Heero?"

            "Have been."

            "For how long...?"

            "Fifteen minutes."

            Duo couldn't help but blush a little.  He expected Heero to shove him away once he woke up.  Yet, there he was, the Wing pilot still curled up in his arms.  / Don't let this moment end, please... don't let it end... /

            To the American's disappointment, Heero pushed Duo away a bit, unwrapping himself from the other's arms.  "We should be getting ready to leave.  Quatre will be waiting," he muttered, standing up.

            Duo nodded in agreement.

            Heero stepped over the bathroom door, resting his hand on the knob.  Then he spoke, not turning his head. "- Duo?"

            "Yeah, Heero?"

            "Thank you."

            Before Duo could say anything in return, Heero had already closed the door. )

::*~~*::

            "Heero?" Duo broke the silence.

            "What?" the answer came flatly.

            / Damn it, he's gone back to his old self. /  "What.. was that about?"

            "What was what about?"  Heero pretended not to remember. He knew what the American meant.  He just didn't want to admit the weakness... or his dream.  / No... I can't let him know he caught me in a moment of weakness.  I am the perfect, I cannot have weaknesses. /

            "Don't play dumb."  Duo's voice had a hint of concern.  

            "It was nothing."

            / Stop, Duo, / he mentally warned himself.  / You'll push him away.  He'll hate you for having seen his tears, for holding him.  Let it stand, at least I'll remember it; at least it means something to me. /

            "Nothing? You were clinging on to me like a child!"  Duo's mouth betrayed his thoughts.  Heero gave silence as a response.

            / Instinct.  It was only instinct.  I needed the comfort, even if just for a moment.  It felt like the thing to do.  Always go with your feelings... always go with your feelings.. /  Heero swallowed. / But how can I tell Duo that?  No, he'll think me weak.  He will... /

            "Heero."  The American laid his hand on the Japanese one's that was resting on the steering wheel.  "Tell me what happened.  What was wrong?  Come on, you can tell me – I won't judge, I just want to help."

            His touch was warm and soft.  He kept his eyes on the road, trying to ignore the boy's compassion.

            "Heero.."  He rubbed his thumb across the back of Heero's hand. "Please..."

            / God... I didn't know touch could feel so ... nice.   He's so warm.  And soft.  I just want to go back into his arms, against his skin... /

            Heero's eyes widened.  He ripped his hand away from the American's touch.  He let his eyes stay on the road,  putting all his concentration into what lay ahead, not noticing the confused look on Duo's face.  

            Duo stared at the dark haired boy for a minute, hoping that Heero would look at him, it only for a second.  Unfortunately, the gaze was not returned.  Sighing, Duo sank back into his seat, leaning his head against the window.

            The rest of the trip was made in silence.

::*~~*::

            "What!?"  Duo exclaimed.  "But... but we just got back from a mission!  Don't we even get to sit down for a _minute_!?"  He threw his arms up to emphasize his point.

            He still had his pack swung over his shoulder, standing just inside the door, Heero standing behind him.  Quatre, the one he was yelling at, was flinching at the American's voice.  He wasn't comfortable with being yelled at and wished he had sent Trowa or Wufei to give the message instead.

            "I-I'm sorry, Duo..."  The American crossed his arms and glared at the Arabian.  But Quatre could tell that he was only trying to mock Heero.  The blonde had to stifle a giggle.  "But we have to move out a.s.a.p.  We'll go to a hot springs afterwards, okay?  That'll be relaxing."

            "Sounds good to me!"  Duo's glare subsided to his normal, goofy smile.  He turned to the boy behind him.  "What do you think, Heero?"

            "Hn."  He pushed the braided boy aside and moved until he was just behind the blonde.  His back still facing them, he commented, "You shouldn't have to bribe him.  He should do it without hesitation."  He was speaking to Quatre directly, ignoring Duo.  "We'll brief in the living room in five minutes. "  The Japanese boy walked down the hall to his room.

            Duo and Quatre watched Heero until they heard the sound of his door closing and locking.

            "Hn!" Quatre looked back at the glaring boy, Duo's hands on his hips.  "Man, why is he always so uptight?"  He sighed heavily.  "No rest for the 'Perfect Soldier', I suppose..." / Even if he _did_ get more sleep than me last night... /

            "Would you like any coffee, Duo?" Quatre laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

            "Yeah, that'd be great, Quatre."

::*~~*::

            Five minutes later, Duo found his way into the living room, a cup of coffee in hand.  He had changed into a black muscle shirt and blue jeans.  The room had four large chairs in it, one already occupied by Heero, and a couch, with a small coffee table in the middle.  He flopped down into a large chair, sinking into its cushions.  He looked at the Japanese boy that was sitting on the other side of the room from him, who was pulling out his laptop.  Duo closed his eyes, taking a sip of coffee, and let out a sigh.  His peace was broken by the sound of typing.

            Duo looked at Heero.  His eyes went over Heero's face, noticing how cold and stern it was.  So much different than the night before.  Heero had smiled when he received the back massage.  Not an evil smile, like did sometimes on missions, but a real smile.  Duo let out another sigh.  / I wish he'd smile like that more often.. /

            "What is it Duo?"

            Duo was ripped out of his thoughts.  He had been staring, he realized.  He shook his head, the chestnut braid swooshing back and forth.  "Nothing..."

            At that moment, Wufei appeared in the doorway.  He ran his eyes over the two boys.  Duo was staring at Heero.  But the second he stepped in, the American turned to face him.  He had a look of concern on his face, but it was quickly replaced by his customary grin.

            "Hey, Wu-man!  How ya been?  Miss me any?"

            "Ch'." Wufei moved over to a chair next to Duo and sat down.  "I enjoy the company of silence more than your voice, Maxwell."

            "Hidoi, Wufei!" Duo cried, sticking out his tongue at the Chinese pilot and pulling down his eyelid.

            "Welcome back, you two," came a voice from the door way.  Duo and Wufei looked up at the boy in the door.  His red-brown bangs were slicked over to one side so only one eye could be seen.  Heero didn't bother looking up.

            "Hey, Trowa!" Duo gave a small wave.  "Was it boring without the two of us here?"  he inquired.

            "Yes, it's dull without your fighting," came Quatre's voice behind Trowa.  He giggled at his own joke.  Heero gave a glance through his bangs at Quatre then went back to typing.

            Trowa and Quatre sat on the couch.  Duo noticed how close they were to each other, surprised that Quatre wasn't _sitting_ in the other's lap.  The other pilots knew they were together; it wasn't any secret.  They probably just wanted to act accordingly in public.  He glanced over at the Japanese boy, then back at the couple, envying them a little.

            / Trowa used to be so cold.  Now that he's with Quatre, he's warming up to us.  Why can't Heero let me do the same for him? / He took a sip of his coffee and turned his attention directly at Quatre, as well as the other three pilots.   He had been the one to receive the message, so they expected him to rally it.

            "Well."  The Arabian cleared his throat.  "The mission's for all five of us.  We are to infiltrate the OZ base at the coordinates given to us.  We have to access some specific files, destroy their computer system, and blow up the hanger that's there.  I will stay in the getaway van and give you all directions on where you need to go. Duo –" He glanced at the American pilot. "-You will be getting in to grab the files and set the virus.  Wufei –"

            "Wait," Duo chimed in,  putting his coffee on the small table.  "Should I _really_ be the one to do the computer stuff?  I'm not as good at it as Heero or Trowa..."

            "The orders said you're the one to do it, Duo." The American gave a sigh of defeat.  Quatre continued, "Wufei, you and Heero will be in charge of destroying the hanger.  There's supposively some new type of mobile suit there."

            "And me?"

            "You'll be backup, Trowa."  The green-eyed boy nodded.  "You'll wait for my signal to set the explosives.  After Trowa and Duo have evacuated and met up with me, I'll give the signal.  Then you two head back towards the van.  Got it?"

            "Ninmu ryoukai."  Heero closed down his laptop and stood up.  "Let's move out."

            After Heero exited, Trowa and Quatre followed.  Wufei got to the door and then stopped, turning around to face the American pilot.  He was staring at his cup of coffee, his chin on his hands.

            "Come on, Maxwell.  We're leaving now."

            The braided boy didn't move.

            "Maxwell?"

            The Chinese pilot stared at the American.  /What's wrong with him?  He should've complained about leaving this quickly.  Or at least hurry to follow Yuy and annoy him./

            "-Wufei?"

            "Yes, Maxwell?"

            Duo paused.  "Never mind..."  He stood, coffee in hand, and walked to the side of the black-haired boy.  "Let's get goin', okay?  Don't want Heero to get mad, ne?"  He flashed his trademark smile at Wufei and then walked out.  The Chinese boy watched after him, sighing, and then followed.

::*~~*::

            The mission seemed simple enough.  All Duo had to do was send the files to Quatre and then inject the virus into the system.  He had already sent the files and was now working on the virus.  Trowa was standing a few doors down, keeping a look out.  Duo figured that Heero and Wufei were already in the hanger by now, waiting for Quatre's signal. 

            Duo was about 90% done with injecting the virus, when Trowa's static voice came over his com.

            "Duo.. There.. soldiers... ming... you way.  Be...ful."  Duo wondered why the communications were so messed up, though Trowa was only a few doors away.  / He must've moved. /

            Heeding the warning, Duo slid across the wall, watching the computer screen.  Ninety-eight percent.  Duo wasn't worried about staying to make sure it was completely done.  He slipped through the door opposite the one he had come through.  He took his gun from its side holster, ready to shoot anyone that got in his way.

            He looked over the room he had just entered.  It was large and hollow, like a hanger.  It was a small hanger, to be exact : only about three mobile suits could be held in it.  / Wait...  There was supposed to be only one hanger, and Heero and Wufei are there. /  He surveyed the area for his friends.  / And they aren't in here, so - /

            Duo's mouth flew open when he laid his eyes on the mobile suit that occupied the room, merely fifteen meters away.  It was kneeling on one knee, its cockpit open.  There was a sheet upon its frame, enabling him to see much detail, but he could see its figure and some of its colours.  It was crimson and charcoal.  But what really got him was that the mobile suit wasn't designed like any of the Leos or Aries, but like... like a Gundam!

            "Shimatta."  

            Duo tried to find the source of the voice.  He his himself in the shadows behind a lift.  The source was on the knee of the Gundam, adjusting something on its arm.

            "It was overkill... My poor baby..."  

            Duo cocked an eyebrow at the weird statement.

            The figure stopped what he was doing and turned his head towards the door that Duo has just slipped away from.  He heard footsteps and voices from the previous room.  He held up his gun, ready to shoot anyone that came out the door.  The noises faded away.  Duo let out a sigh of relief, lowering his gun.  He looked back at the person on the Gundam, only to find the human missing.

            Duo was suddenly grabbed by his right wrist.  A pressure point was hit and he dropped the weapon while his arm was being twisted behind his back.  Another arm wrapped itself around his neck, giving a light squeeze.  Duo instinctively reached up his free hand to grasp at the arm around his throat, only grabbing the sleeve of the other's jacket.  When he did get his fingers around his arm, he pulled at it to no avail.

            The American let out a whimper as his arm was pulled far enough so that his hand could grab his left side. 

            Duo could feel the warm breath of the attack on his neck, as well as his hair, as he leaned closer to his ear.  "From OZ, I suppose...?  Want to join your fallen comrades...?"  The voice had a hint of disturbing playfulness.

            The American's only response was a choke, the arm tightening around his throat.  It was suddenly removed, but a second later, Duo's braid was grabbed and used to fling the American back, so the assailant could knee him in the solar plexus.  Duo fell to the floor, gasping for breath.  He turned onto his side, coughing.  He looked up, trying to see his attacker's face, but was unsuccessful due to the dim lighting. 

            The Deathscythe pilot flipped on his stomach and then rose so he was on his hands and knees.  However, his ribs were kicked in by a heavy boot, sending him back to the floor.

            The braided pilot was flipped onto his back by the other's foot.

            "...uhhh..." Duo looked up at the figure now standing over him.

            "Hm," the shadow half-scoffed, half-snickered.  "At first... I thought you were a girl."  He positioned himself so that his feet were at Duo's sides, pinning his arms.  He squatted down, leaning his face close to the American's.  Through his dazed vision and the dim light, Duo could see the flicker of a gray eye.  The other was covered by what seemed to be hair.  The depth of the other's eye was even more devoid of emotion than Heero's cobalt eyes, but at the same time they were full of mischief, violence, and.. lust?  The mere thought of it made Duo shiver.

            The grin across the other's face grew wider, please by the American's fear.  He placed a gloved hand upon the shocking boy's forehead, brushing his bangs out of his face.

            "Though... you are awfully cute, boy or girl.  Too bad you saw my baby.. "  The attacker shifted his gaze to the Gundam and then back to the boy beneath him.  The American's eyes were tightly closed, letting out a small mewl.  The aggressor moved his hand from the forehead to the Deathscythe pilot's throat, his other gloved hand joining it.  He applied pressure.

            The American's vision was slowly fading to black, the world dissolving with it.

            Sure of the braided boy's unconscious, the figure leaned over to kiss his forehead.

            "Oyasumi, my little Gundam pilot," he whispered.

::*~~*::

            Heero tightened his grip on the handle of the Desert Eagle.  He stood just outside of the door to the hanger, Wufei on the other side of it.  They had their bags of explosives swung over their shoulders, watching the hallway for any signs of officers.  It had been forty minutes since Duo was supposed to inject the virus.  He should've been done by now.  What the hell was taking so long?  Heero took out his com and switched it on.

            "Quatre."

            "Yes?"

            "Have you head anything from Duo or Trowa?"

            "I heard from Trowa a little while ago.  He had encountered some officers, but easily took them out.  Some others had entered the computer room, but they came back empty-handed.  Trowa assumed that Duo had slipped out and already made his way back.  The coms weren't working between the two, so maybe-"

            "Hey, Quatre," the Chinese pilot spoke into his own com.

            "Yes, Wufei?"

            "What does the door across from us go to?"

            Heero eyed the black-haired pilot and then looked across the hall.  Indeed, there was a door there, that blended in pretty well with the rest of the wall.  Even the Wing pilot himself had trouble seeing it.  It was a little smaller than the door the two pilots were now standing in front of.

            "Umm... What door, Wufei? There are no other rooms then the one next to you guys."

            "Quatre, tell Trowa to come up here and take out place.  Wufei and I will out this new room."

            "Roger."

            With that, the two pilots put away their coms.  They approached the door, of which had a keypad lock on it.  It was more than easy for Heero to pick.

            They slid against the walls of either side of the door, Heero with his gun in hand, Wufei having his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to unsheathed it if needed.

            Heero gestured that he was going to continue down the wall and that Wufei should continue down the other one.  He nodded and they completely separated paths.

            Heero surveyed the area, noticing a large mobile suit in the small hanger.  It was completely wrapped in a parachute sheet, enabling the Japanese youth to see what model it was.  He continued looking around the room, until he laid eyes upon a figure leaning up against a crate.  Upon closer inspection, he saw a chestnut colour braid snaked from the head to the ground.

            Heero's eyes widen and he hurried over to the fallen pilot, peering to his sides to make sure no one was around.  He leaned over the American and laid a hand on his shoulder.  He shook him lightly.

            "Oi, Duo..  Get up, we need to get going."

            No response. 

            Heero pulled the braided pilot close to inspect him.  He was out.  Cold.  The Japanese pilot let out a sigh as he picked up his fallen comrade and swung him over his shoulder.

            He heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed and looked to its source.  Wufei had his sword drawn, down in a fighting stance, facing a person who had their arms crossed.

            A dim light hung above the two.  Because of it,  Heero could catch a glimpse of the teenager's features.  The Wing pilot's mouth fell open.

            The youth's left eye was covered by red and black bangs, his right eye the colour of gray.  The hair on his head came to the nape of his neck, a rat tail sneaking down to his middle back.  He skin was a golden colour, the Egyptian heritage showing.  He wore an aviator's jacket that had the eye of Horus on the back, and a blue shirt that showed a little of his chest.  Around his neck was a chain with dog tags.  His hands were gloved.  He wore large parachute pants that were tucked into military lace-up boots.  There was a mocking grin plastered on his face, gray eye twinkling.

            The Wing pilot switch Duo more comfortably (for him, at least, seeing as Duo was out) into both his arms after putting his gun back in his spandex.  He gulped and bit his lower lip.  Then he walked over to the quarrelling teenagers.

::*~~*::

            Wufei stood in a stance, sword drawn, glaring at the boy that had approached him from the shadows.  / So silently, / Wufei thought,  / I never even heard his footsteps. /  He wore a cocky grin, arms crossed, looking at the Chinese pilot through only one gray eye, the other covered by hair.  From his face structer and skin tone, Wufei could decipher that he was Egyptian.

            Before the black-haired boy could strike, a voice spoke from the darkness.

            "Saraka."

            The red headed youth and the Chinese pilot turned to the source.  Heero stood there, holding the American pilot in his arms, the ladder being unconscious.

            The Egyptian teenager grinned wider.  "Heero-kun.  I didn't think I'd see you anytime soon."

            "What are you doing here?"  Heero snarled.  His voice was a little quieter than normal and had a trace of apprehension within it.  Wufei noticed the Wing pilot's gaze was set directly on the other's gray eye, as if expecting this 'Saraka' to make a sudden motion.

            "Ch'," was Saraka's reply.  He tilted his head to the side in an arrogant manner.  "Just thought I'd go out for a mission, ne?  Needed some action.  So boring back at the lab."  The other put his hands behind his head.  "So easily destroyed, all of them.  I was going to get rid of the base... but...  aw, hell, isn't important, ne?  You guys were probably going to do it anyways, weren't you?"  He looked towards Wufei.  "Another pilot, I take it?"  He looked at the boy in Heero's grasp, a twinkle of like in his eye.  "Him, too?"

            The Japanese boy's grip on the American visibly tightened.  The look of apprehension started to mingle with pure anger.  "Yes.  Do you know what happened to him?"

            Saraka shrugged.

            "Excuse me."  The two boys turned to face Wufei, who was only now sheathing his sword.  "May I know what's going on and who the _hell_ this is?"

            "My name is Saraka Set Legacy," the red headed boy started, extending a hand to the Chinese pilot.  "I pilot the Gundam Amun.  And you?"

            Wufei blinked.  Another pilot?  That couldn't be possible.  After a few hesitant seconds, the Shenlong pilot grasped the other's hand and shook, tightening his grip a little.  However, Saraka didn't even seem to be notice; instead, he tightened his own grip, causing Wufei to wince.  "I... I am Chang Wufei, pilot of Shenlong."  They dropped their hands.  "How do you know Yuy?"

            "I guess you could say we're old comrades."

            Heero flinched at Saraka's words, but quickly recovered his composure.

            "So, what are you doing alone?  If you're a Gundam pilot, shouldn't you be working with us?"

            Saraka's eye seemed to light up.  "Is that an invitation?"  
            "I suppose so."

            Has Wufei taken his eyes off the Egyptian pilot, he might've noticed the short look of panic that had crawled onto Heero's face.  He shook his head and found his equanimity once more.

            Saraka turned to the Japanese pilot.  "Of course, you don't object, right, Heero-kun?"   He flashed the Wing pilot a toothy grin, a chanellege to object to the offer in his eye.

            "Hn."  Heero turned his gaze to Wufei.  "He's trustworthy and he and his Gundam could make a valuable addition."  He regretted accepting, but he didn't want to explain to the Shenlong pilot –why- he didn't want the Egyptian pilot around.  No, he couldn't tell anyone about –that-.

            Saraka pulled out a permanent maker from his jacket pocket and stepped up to Wufei.  He handed the Chinese pilot the writing utensil and pulled up his left sleeve.  There was a pattern of anhks that encircled right above his elbow.

            "Here: Write the coordinates of you safe house down."  He flipped his arm over to the lighter side of his arm (which wasn't _much_ lighter) and trusted it in front of Wufei.  "You guys can go ahead and leave, I'll wait here for thirty minutes and then blow this place up.  I'll find some place to hide my baby and then meet up with you guys at the safe house."

            Wufei cocked an eyebrow at the Egyptian's pet name for his Gundam.  He then said, "And if we move out by then?"  He uncapped the pen and began to write on Saraka's skin.

            "Though I highly doubt that, " Saraka mused, shrugged with his free arm. "I'll find a way to contact you.  Hell, unless Yowai has had some sort of character change, he'll probably be sitting at his laptop.  I'll just email 'im."

            " 'Yowai' ?" Wufei recapped the pen and handed it back to Saraka, who pocketed it.  The Shenlong pilot was still not that good with Japanese and was unsure of the meaning of the word.

            "My little nickname for Heero,"  he snickered.  He walked over to the Japanese pilot and swung an arm around his shoulders.  "Ne, Yowaiko?"

            "Omae o korosu,"  Heero snarled, his words carrying a personal hatred for the Egyptian.

            The Amun pilot smirked at the Wing pilot but then turned his gaze to the unconscious boy in his arms.  His smile widened.

            Eyeing the Egyptian wearily, Heero said, "Let's get going."  He shrugged off Saraka's arm.  "We'll see you at the safe house.  Wufei, go find Trowa;  I'll go ahead and take Duo back to the van."

            The Chinese pilot nodded.

            "I'll see you two later."  Saraka waved.  "Aten-Ra be with you."  He walked over to the mobile suit, no doubt his Gundam, that was covered by the parachute sheet.  He disappeared underneath it.

            Heero began to walk away to the door they had come through, Wufei close behind.  Duo made a small whimper and buried his head into Heero's chest.  The Japanese boy let out a sigh, hoping that they would not encounter any officers on the way back.

::*~~*::

            Trowa settled into the driver's seat, Quatre sitting in the passenger, and Wufei right between them in the back, kneeling on the cold floor.  Heero was poised against the double doors of the van.  

            He had laid Duo in his lap, inspecting him for visible injuries.  A couple of bruises on the face, one on his arm.  No blood, though.

            In the front, the other three pilots were discussing what all had happened.  It seemed that Duo's COM had had a malfunction, the reason why Trowa had trouble warning him and locating him afterwards.  Wufei talked about the meeting with Saraka and about the Amun pilot's arrival in about a day.

            Heero found himself only half-listening.  He had put all of his attention into the boy in his arms.  He ran his calloused fingers over the bruised sides of Duo's neck.  He had been strangled, apparently.

            Duo had no sense of consciousness.  Heero was unsure how long Duo had been like this before he and the Shenlong pilot had made it into the newly found hanger.  It must've been awhile, though.

            Heero brushed chestnut strands from Duo's face.  He stared at the other's heart-shaped face, his lips twisting while the Deathscythe pilot let out a moan.  The Japanese pilot stoked Duo's cheek mindlessly.  Heero found an apart of him hating the sight of the American in pain.  But he had been in pain before, and Heero had not cared as much as he did now.  So, why was he feeling protective, only recently?  Like... like he wanted to rip off the head of whoever had harmed the loud-mouthed pilot.

            "What was his name again?" Quatre asked to Wufei in front.

            "Saraka," the Chinese pilot replied.

            Heero felt his mind spin into anger at the mere mention of the Egyptian.  He unconsciously entwined his fingers with Duo's as he remembered the all-to-familiar look Saraka had given the American.  He knew the look very well.  It was the same look the Egyptian had given him every time he... Heero made an inaudible growl in his throat at the thought of the humiliation he had gone through due to Saraka.

            /  Saraka... /  His grip tightened around Duo's hand.  He drew the boy closer, allowing the American's head to rest in between his neck and shoulder.  Heero wrapped his free arm around Duo's waist and laid his cheek on the top of his head.  He couldn't explain the need for protecting the braided pilot.  It was just... there.  Maybe he had always felt defensiveness for Duo, just not this strongly?  Until, that is, there was a real threat.  A threat like Saraka.

            How was he to explain his feelings?  He wasn't sure what any of them meant.  He wasn't supposed to have these kind of protective feelings for anyone.  No, there was not supposed to be any attachment to anyone.  Yet, Heero knew, that if Saraka even so much as _touched_ Duo, he would give him the most torturous death ever.

            / No...  I can't.  Saraka is useful; I can't kill him due to some person vendetta.  Besides – /  Heero closed his cobalt eyes, / – Duo may not like the idea of this kind of protection.  It's too... personal.  This must end.  Having to protect him is a flaw, a _weakness_.  No, you cannot – you will not – think me weak, Duo. /

            With a sign, Heero laid Duo on the metal floor of the van, the American's head drawn onto his lap.  He took the rubber band from Duo's braid and gently pulled it off, letting it drop to the floor.  The Wing pilot began to unbraid the mass of hair and play with it, a subconscious action.  His eyes became unseeing as he retreated into the back of his mind, digging for something, _anything_, that would tell him what he was feeling.

            Wufei looked over his shoulder to check on the two in the back.  He cocked an eyebrow at the scene of Heero playing with the Deathscythe pilot's chestnut braid, the Japanese boy's eyes distant, a mix of anger and confusion with the cobalt.  He didn't even seem to notice the look of curiosity and concern that Wufei was giving him.

            / He's been acting odd since we met up with Saraka.  I wonder how they know each other...? /

::*~~*::

            / Duo...  You're changing me so much.  How..?  Damn it!  Why did you hold me last night!?  That must be it!  I probably just feel like I owe him something.. /  But he was lying to himself.  He would never feel like he owed someone anything – because he never did before.  / But now... now I feel like I owe him something.  So, I'll... I'll protect you from Saraka.  I won't let him touch you.  Even if he uses me again, in your place.  I won't let him new you.  I promise... /

            "What was the, Yuy?"

            Heero snapped to attention.  / I said that out loud!?  Damn it!  Those words are for Duo _only_.  And he's missed the chance to hear them... /  "Nothing."

            Wufei stared him for a moment, then moved his eyes to the American in Heero's lap, then back to the Japanese boy.  "How do you know Saraka, anyways?"

            Heero's features seem to tighten at the sound of the Egyptian's name.  "I don't want to talk about it right now.  Later, Wufei.  When we get back and I've had a chance to sleep."

            The Chinese boy's obsidian eyes met Japanese's cobalt ones.  The look of confusion and anger was still there.  He decided not to press the matter, so he shrugged and turned his attention back to the front and the two other pilots.

            Heero sighed and leaned his head down so his lips were close to Duo's ear.  "I promise."

Anou...  That sucked compared to the first chapter.  Sorry, guys.  The third should be better...


	3. Deceptions and Truths

**Title : **Mukizu No Senshi (Flawless Warrior)

**Part :  **three **/**

**Part Title : **Deceptions and Truths

**Authour : **~sushisama~ (sbolce@esper.com)

**Warnings : **shounen ai, sap, OOC (?), 1+2/ 2+1, 3+4/4+3 (implied), OC (original character)

**Disclaimer : **I do not own the Gundam boys, neither would I want to.  It would be no fun writing about my own characters.  Well, it would not be as fun as reading fan fiction from some adoring fan, at least.  But, I'm side tracking here.  ^-^;;; There would be no point to suing me – though I have money, it isn't much.  

**Notes :** Been a while since I posted something for this fic, ne?  Sorry about that one – school, friends, and – not to mention – inspiration for other fanfics have all been in my way (like the eva fic 'but in the end' and my soul reaver series 'untitled' (shameless plug, I know)).  I'll honestly _try_ to get more of this done, but there is no guarantee.  Especially because I decided against the plot I had thought of originally going with, and have to think of a _new_ one.  Damn it all to hell...

**Something new! : **Do you not like this fic solely because it has yaoi /shounen-ai in it?  Well, instead of sending me a simple flame review, why not send me a whole-blasted form?  Go to http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=499124 and fill it out!  ^_^

**/ / = thoughts     [ ] = dreams     ( ) = flashbacks**

::*~~*::

            Wufei peeked into the living room.  He saw the American sprawled across the couch, Heero sitting in a chair next to him.  The Wing pilot was typing on his laptop.  Wufei noticed a hesitation in the pilot's keying and the Japanese boy turning his attention to the chestnut haired boy at the slight notice of movement.

            The Chinese pilot cleared his throat.  Heero looked up at him, watching the Shenlong pilot cross the room and sit in the chair across from him.  Their eyes met and they kept their gaze for a minute.  Then Heero looked down at his work, beginning to type again.

            "Yuy."

            Heero looked up again.

            "How do you know Saraka?"  The black-haired boy noticed the wince Heero gave.  The look of apprehension returned.

            "We... were both raised together a little.  Doctor J was mentor to us both."  Heero saved whatever he was working on and shut down the laptop.  He put it on the coffee table and then turned to look at Wufei. 

            "Why haven't we met him until now?  If he is a Gundam pilot, shouldn't he have joined us at the beginning?  Or at least we would have heard _something_ about him."

            "That's what worries me."

            "What?"

            Heero leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.  "He was put away –"

            " 'Away'?  What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

            "Saraka is insane, Wufei.  Absolutely insane."  Wufei winced at the look of sincerity on Heero's face.  "He has no remorse.  He has no leader.  He follows his own orders.  That of which stands in his way, he destroys, _personally_."

            "What do you meant by that?"  Wufei was beginning to worry.  Heero's look had a hint of fear in it.  When had the Wing pilot _ever_ been afraid?

            "I mean," his face tightened, "each death he gives is individual.  That is – if he does kill.  He's a sick person."  Heero gestured for Wufei to remain silent when the Chinese tried to interrupt him once more.  "Whatever it takes.  I've seen him _eat_ – and I mean, 'quick and make an elegant dinner' – just because the guy had seen his Gundam.      

            "The insanity, however, is only a drawback to his strengths.  He is like me: meant to be the 'Perfect Soldier'.  They took a different approach with him, though – they allowed him to keep his human feelings.  He was given a life in Cairo, tried to be a guardian of some fictional Pharaoh before being told about Gundam.  He had many friends.  He was fucking _normal_.  But the instinct to fight was a main lesson throughout life – bringing out that instinct, I mean.  Probably what led to his ways.  Or maybe... maybe they just _wanted_ him to be this way.  They probably thought they'd control him.  Hn.  Yeah right."

            The Shenlong pilot fell silent for a moment, soaking up Heero's words and the fear in his voice.  / He's afraid of Saraka.  He's honestly _afraid_ of him.  Can he really be that bad to make Yuy, the stoic 'Perfect Soldier', feels fear? /

            "Why did you accept to letting him join us if you're so afraid of him?"

            Heero shot the Chinese pilot a death gave for saying _he_ was _afraid_.

            "Sorry. 'If you dislike him so much,'" Wufei corrected himself.

            "He's trustworthy, no matter the mental defects.  And he's the best at what he does.  He would make a useful addition."

            "And he won't betray us for OZ?"

            Heero shook his head.

            "So, what are we going to do about it?"

            "Allow him to join us and keep an eye on him.  The only ones he'll try to hurt is the enemy.  As long as we don't do anything to get on his bad list – which is extremely hard to do – we'll be fine.  He'll follow mission orders as long as they don't conflict with his own plans."

            Wufei nodded.  "All right.  I'll trust your judgment on this one, Yuy.  Goodnight."  He stood up and walked towards the door.  He then looked back at Duo, still unconscious on the couch.  "Is he going to wake up anytime soon?"

            Heero shrugged.  "Hn.  Whatever the guy did, it was enough to knock him out for about... five hours, now?  He'll probably wake up relatively soon.  I'll ask him what happened when he wakes up."

            Wufei nodded again and then walked out, closing the door behind him.

            Heero let out a long sigh as the door closed.  He then turned his attention to the sleeping Shinigami.  He stood from his chair and moved to the side of the couch, kneeling so he could look directly into Duo's heart-shaped face.  He brushed his fingers over his cheek.

            He laid his head on the cushion, hair fluttering against the American's chest.  He closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.  It had truly been a long day, emotionally and mentally.  He would sleep now and talk to Duo in the morning.  Hopefully he'd be awake by then.

::*~~*::

[ Duo jumped down from the cockpit of Deathscythe and ran across the field towards the damaged Wing.  He climbed up to the cockpit and nudged in.  He stood over the bleeding pilot in the seat.

            "Heero!"  He put his hands on the Japanese boy's shoulders and shook him.  "Heero, come on!"

            Cobalt eyes unhide themselves form behind eyelids and stared emotionlessly into the American's amethyst ones.  He had blood dripping from his brown hair to trail across his face.  Duo, himself, had blood leaking from the side of his mouth.

            Heero took a hold of the American's shirt and pulled him down so that their noses were touching.  His other hand snuck around to take hold of the braid that hung down Duo's back.

            "Heero, what are–?"

            "Shut up, Duo," Heero said coldly, tugging a little on the braid.

            They stayed still for a moment, their warm breathes mixing.  Then Heero gently ran his tongue over the side of Duo's lips, licking off the blood.  Duo's eyes widened.

            "Heero–"

            He was cut off by the Wing pilot's lips crushing against his own in a rather sloppy kiss.  The force was almost bruising.  Duo tried to push Heero away, but the boy was pulled even closer, so he was sitting in the Japanese boy's lap.  Heero's hand moved to the back of his neck, still holding onto his braid.

            Heero gently nipped Duo's bottom lip, opening it so he could slide his tongue into Duo's hot mouth.  He explored what was inside, running along the sides and teeth, then on top of the American's own tongue.  Duo let himself relax and started to spar with Heero's tongue.

            He wrapped his arms around the Wing pilot's back, adjusting so he was comfortably in the other's lap.  He closed his violet eyes, allowing himself to fade into Heero's kiss.

            The dark-haired boy broke the kiss, leaving them both panting.  He leaned next to Duo's ear, laying a soft kiss on it.  The American shivered at the feel of Heero's breath against his neck.

            "I want you, Duo Maxwell," he whispered in a low, husky voice that was not his own.  He moved his head to run kisses down Shinigami's neck, suckling and licking.

            Duo let out a whimper at the rush of pleasure hitting him.  "Heero...  Please..." ]

::*~~*::

            Duo opened his eyes slowly.  He had a small headache and a pain in his chest.  He brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing it in a futile attempt to drive the migraine away.

            "Hnn... anyone catch the license on that truck...?" he joked to himself in a whisper.

            His violet eyes trailed around the room he was in.  The safe-house.  He was back at the safe-house.  Wasn't he just on a mission?  The Gundam...  the new Gundam he had seen...  Then..  He snorted at the blank in his memory.

            Duo moved his hand to his chest, feeling it bare except for the bandages covering it.  Probably why his ribs hurt.

            He ran his fingers through a rough yet soft texture.  He looked down at his discovery, eyes widening.  Heero had his head tucked into Duo's stomach, sleeping.  His dark brown hair was tickling Duo's side.

            Shinigami felt a blush come to his face.  The image of his dream popped into his mind.

            Heero _kissing_ him.  Heero _touching_ him.  Heero saying he wanted _him_.

            / But in reality, he doesn't want me... / Duo shook his head.  / No, it doesn't matter if he does or doesn't.  Because I _don't_ want him. /

            He ran his fingers through Heero's hair, causing the Japanese pilot to shiver.

            / ...right? /

            He laid his hand on the other's cheek.

            / ...wrong, I do.  Damnit!  Why _him_, of all people!?  He'd...  he'd never accept me. /

            The Wing pilot began to stir.  Duo retracted his hand.

            "Duo...?"  Heero looked up at the long-haired pilot, whose hair was currently drawn around his body.  Heero couldn't help but pick up a few strands and idly play with it between his fingers.  / Maybe he'll let me wash his hair again... /

            "Hey, Heero," Duo chirped, familiar grin in place.  "What happened?"  He eyed the hand stroking his hair then turned to meet Heero's cobalt eyes.

            "Shouldn't you tell _me_ that?  Why were you unconscious?"

            Duo put his hand to his brow.  "Well, I can't really remember...  I saw a Gundam, though, Heero!  God, I didn't think there were anymore, but I guess Prof. G and them made a new one.  It looked kind of spiffy, though.  I wonder who the pilot is and why he–"

            "The Gundam Amun is older than all of ours, Duo."

            The American gave a dumbfounded look.  "What?"

            "That Gundam is as old as me, if not older.  And its pilot wasn't even supposed to _be_ here..."

            "How do you know that, Heero?"  He tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow.

            Heero let out a sigh and shook his head.  "I'll tell you about it later.  You should go back to sleep.  Are you–"

            "Are _you_ comfortable?" Duo cut him to the chase.  "Sitting like that can't be good for you back or neck.  I'll end up giving you another massage in no them, eh?"  Duo winked.

            "I wouldn't mind," Heero said carelessly.

            Duo blinked, then grinned.  "I'll keep that in mind.  But still, you can go back to your room now.  I'll still be here in the morning."

            Heero just stared into Duo's violet eyes and said nothing.  Duo was right: the American probably wouldn't move off the couch until later the next day.  But he didn't want to leave.  He wanted to stay as close to Duo as long he could.  / Needing to protect you... that is a weakness.  I shouldn't stay, it would only make me weaker, but I don't want to leave you, either."

            "Hn," Heero finally grunted, tucking his head back into Duo's stomach, a lock of hair still in his fingers.  "Go back to sleep, Duo."  He closed his eyes.

            The Deathscythe pilot let out a tiny sigh.  "–Heero?"

            "Hn?"  His eyes remained closed.

            "As long as you brush my hair."

            "What?"

            "I'll give you another massage if you brush my hair in exchange."

            The Wing pilot gave a smirk.  "Fine."

::*~~*::

            Quatre wondered into the kitchen from the room he and Trowa shared.  He rubbed his eyes mindlessly, heading towards the stove to make some tea.

            / I really hope we don't have any missions soon.  I really don't feel like it... /  He yawned.

            The blond filled his tea kettle and dropped it onto the stove.  After he turned it on, he looked through half-lidded eyes at the flame of the lit gas.  He leaned back slightly and was caught by a firm torso.

            He smiled.  "Morning, Trowa."

            A muscled arm sneaked around his neck, covered by leather.  It tightened.

            "Not quite."

            Wufei made his way into the kitchen, ready to make breakfast for himself.  But he stopped short in his steps when he looked into the room.

            "What in the hell do you think you're doing!?"

            Heero rose his head at the sound of Wufei's voice.  He shrugged it off and laid back down against Duo.  The American was beginning to sit up but winced in pain.  Heero put his hand on Duo's shoulder and pushed him back down.

            "Don't worry about it.  He's probably yelling at Quatre or something."

            Before the Wing pilot could lay his head back, Duo pushed him slightly.  His amethyst eyes met cobalt ones.  "He sounded worried..."

            "Hn."

            "Well, I'm hungry anyways, and, from the look of it, you won't let me get up.  It sounded like it came from the kitchen, so just check it out while you get me some food.  Okay?"  Duo gave him the puppy-eye look.

            Heero sighed.  He wanted to go back to sleep, resting on Duo's stomach.  He was soft, warm; there was a sense of...

            / Comfort.  Just like the night he held me.  I feel weak, pathetic.  But that's okay, as long as you're the only one to see it. /

            "Please, Heero~?"

            / You need to get out of here, anyways.  Before the weakness grows. /

            "Fine," Heero groaned and stood.  Before he could leave, Duo reached out and grabbed his hand.  Their eyes met and stayed for a moment.

            "Thanks."  Duo was smiling.

            "For what?" the Wing pilot replied.

            Duo's fingers tightened around Heero's hand.  "For staying with me all night.  You neck must be killing."

            Heero tilted his head to each side, cracking it.  "A little."

            Duo's smile turned into a grin.  "My offer still stands."

            The Japanese pilot nodded and slipped out of the American's grasp.  He opened the door and walked out, leaving it ajar.  Duo laid back and tried to go back to sleep, wanting to finish the dream he had at the beginning of the night.

::*~~*::

            Heero walked into the kitchen, prepared to see Wufei with a bleeding nose and Trowa and Quatre holding each other, obviously caught 'in the act'.  Even Heero wasn't ignorant of the relationship.  However the two did broadcast it out a little too publicly, it would take a real idiot not to notice it.

            He wasn't, however, prepared for the _actual_ scene in the kitchen.  Wufei was down in a fighting stance and Quatre was being held by someone from behind.  No, not someone: _Saraka_.

            "Let go of him," the Chinese boy growled.

            "A very low security," Saraka said, grinning.  "I've been here for hours.  I guess 'cause you guys were sleeping could be a good reason, though."  He chuckled and let go of the Arab, patting him on the shoulder.  "Sorry if I started you.  Just wanted to see if you could sense.  Then again," he snickered, turning his head towards Heero, "_he_ wouldn't have, either.  Hey, you all had breakfast yet?  I'm starving.  I'll cook if you'd like."

            Quatre turned to the Egyptian.  "Umm... should we not introduce ourselves first?  You are the new Gundam pilot, right?"

            "The _oldest_ one, actually."  His grin widened.  "My name is Saraka Set Legacy."

            "Set?"

            "Yes."  He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal a snake tattoo.  Heero knew it was one of many symbols grafted onto the Egyptian's body, sporting his inheritance and religion.  "Set, the chaotic snake God of Egypt."

            "Ohh," the Arab said thoughtfully.  "What do you mean by 'oldest', though?  Were you a Gundam pilot before any of us?"

            "You haven't introduced yourself yet."

            Quatre flushed.  "Oh, I'm sorry!  I am Quatre Rareba Winner."

            The Egyptian gave the boy a reassuring smile.  Then he turned to the other two in the room.  Wufei had relaxed from his fighting stance, but was eyeing Saraka.  Heero eyed him as well, but with a more intense glare.

            "So, where are the other two?"  He moved to the fridge, opened it, and began to take out supplies for a large breakfast.  "And how's – what did you call him – Duo?"  He came back to the counter, food in both hands, closing the fridge door with his foot.  He dumped the food and then began to look for utensils.

            "You don't have to–" Quatre began.

            "But I _want_ to."

            Wufei turned to Heero, "Well, Yuy? How is Maxwell?"

            "He woke up somewhere around three last night.  He's asleep right now, though.  Saraka, how long will it take you?"

            The red-head boy put the spatula he was holding to his chin, as if in thought.  "'Bout... thirty minutes?  I'll call you all in when it's ready.  Oi, Q-kun, would you mind helping me?  It'll get done faster that way."

            "S-sure..."

            "Well?"  Saraka turned his visible eye to the Shenlong and Wing pilot.  "Get the hell out of my kitchen."  He pointed to the door with his spatula.

            Wufei cocked an eyebrow but left without a word, soon followed by Heero.  On their way out they passed a rather sleepy Trowa who was heading the way they had just come from.

            When Trowa was in, the others could hear his stony voice, "Who are you?"

::*~~*::

            Heero returned to the living room ten minutes later after a quick show and a change of clothes.  He still had spandex and cotton, but they were now a light shade of blue and grey.

            When he stepped in, he spotted Wufei in a chair across from the sofa, a hand of cards in his fingers.  He looked over at the American who also had a hand.  Duo placed two cards on the table and then picked up two from the pile.  Poker, obviously.

            Duo looked up at the approaching Japanese, and the smile that was already there grew.  "Hey, Heero!  Where you been?  Why don't you have any food?  I'm _hungry_."  He patted the seat next to him, gesturing for Heero to sit down.

            "Hn."  The Wing pilot didn't budge but crossed his arms.  "It isn't ready yet.  It'll be done soon; whenever Saraka calls us in."

            "Saraka?  Who's that?"

            Heero looked at Wufei, glaring.  He had expected him to have told the long-haired fool about the visitor.  But, then again, he could've told him last night when the subject came up.

            "Saraka," Wufei began, putting down three cards and picking up three, "is the sixth Gundam pilot.  We found him at the base yesterday.  He's decided to join us."

            "Cool.  I thought he was a pilot.  He's cooking, right?  I'll go meet him, then."  He began to stand up but fell back down.  "Oww... ribs still hurt..."

            "Then don't move."  Heero sat down next to Duo, keeping a foot between them.  "He'll probably come by after breakfast."

            "Ah, okay."  He turned to Wufei.  "Show."

            They both laid their hands down.  The Chinese won by four-of-a-kind; Duo only had two-of-a-kind,  Duo whined at his lose, while Wufei merely grinned.

            The American picked up the cards and began to shuffle them.  Heero started to watch the nimble fingers cutting the deck and then gracefully mix them together.

            "You want to play, Heero?"

            The Japanese youth snapped out of his trance.  Duo still had his attention on shuffling but Wufei was cocking an eyebrow at him.  Heero shook his head.

            "Aw, come.  Have some fun once in a while, Heero!"

            "Hn.  Fine."

            "Yay!"  Duo quickly put the cards together and then dealt each five cards.  His grin quickly when he saw his hand.

            Five games later, Heero had won two and Wufei three.  Duo hadn't won at all and was starting to pout.  That was around the time they heard Saraka's sing-song voice summoning them to the kitchen.

            Duo made an effort to get up but was jerked back down by Heero.

            "Stay," the Wing pilot commanded.

            The American rolled his eyes.  "I'm not a dog, you know."  Heero pinned him with a glare.  "Fine, fine.  Just bring back a _lot_, okay?  I'm really hungry."

            "You've already mentioned that, I believe," Wufei chimed in, standing up.  Heero followed suit and they both left, leaving the American yet again alone to his thoughts.

            Duo sighed and reshuffled the cards.  He then started to deal them out in a game of solitaire.

            When they were out in the hall, Wufei turned his attention to the Wing pilot.  "Yuy."  Heero looked at him.  "You're being awfully nice to Maxwell, as I've noticed.  It's only a few bruised ribs, he'll be–"

            "You know he can't remember anything of the attack.  As well as being unconscious for longer than he should've been," Heero thought aloud.  He stopped walking; Wufei did as well, giving the Japanese boy a questioning look.

            "What are you suggesting?"

            Heero shook his head.  "Don't worry about it.  Just let me take care of him for awhile."

            The black-haired pilot raised an eyebrow.  "Is he going to _stay_ on the couch all the while?"

            "I'll get him to move later."  He started to walk towards the kitchen again.  Wufei just sighed and followed.

            The table in the kitchen was set for six, a cup for milk and a cup for juice for each.  The table was neat and orderly, unlike their normal rushed breakfasts.

            Trowa and Quatre were already seated at the table next to each other.  Quatre had a cup of tea while Trowa had a mug of coffee.  Saraka was in front of the stove, jacket removed, showing all of his tattoos.  Next to him was a plate full of bacon and sausage links and patties.

            When Wufei and Heero had taken their seats, the Egyptian turned to the newcomers, smiling.  "You guys are _late_.  I call you five minutes ago!" he said in a mock-scolding voice.

            "Ch'," both of them muttered at the same time.

            "You guys want some eggs?"

            "Can you do sunny-side up?" Wufei asked.

            "I can do _anything_."  Wufei smiled.  "And you, Heero?"

            "None for me," Heero said flatly.  Saraka shrugged and turned around, picking up eggs to crack and fry.

            "That was really go~od!" Quatre complimented.  He rested his head against Trowa's shoulder.  "You are a great cook, Saraka!  I'm so stuffed that I'm starting to get tired..."

            "Done?" Saraka asked sweetly, standing beside the table.  When all four boys nodded, the Egyptian began to pick-up plates and dumped then into the sink.

            "Saraka."

            He looked over his shoulder.  "Yeah, Heero?"

            "Make two extra eggs and I'll bring them to Duo."

            "Su~re thing, Yowaiko!"  He turned back to the stove, turning it on, and putting the pan back on it.  He started to hum some tune from his home land.

            Trowa excused himself and Quatre, dragging the sleepy Arabian out.  Shortly after, Wufei got up to check on Duo.  Now Heero was left alone with Saraka.  He started to become apprehensive.

            A heavy silence fell between the two youths while Saraka cooked and Heero prepared a tray.  He stopped loading the plate with bacon and turned to the Egyptian.

            "Why?"

            Still looking at the stove, the Amun pilot grinned, ceasing his humming.  "Because he saw my baby," he replied simply, knowing the entire question before it was finished.

            "Bullshit.  You knew who he was.  You would've referenced it.  What was the point to beating him up?"

            Saraka shrugged.  "I honestly didn't know, Yowaiko.  I referenced past and name, but never got any pictures.  Besides, he's not severely hurt or anything, right?  No problem, then–"

            "That is no justification!" Heero hissed.  "What the hell did you think you were doing?  No, never mind, I don't _want_ to know."  He shook his head.  "But if _ever_ try to hurt him again, I will kill you."

            Saraka smirked, putting the cooked eggs onto an empty spot on Duo's plate.  "_Kill_ me?  Ch'!  I think I should provoke you _more_ just to see you _try_."  He snickered.  "Though, you _are_ being a tad bit protective, you know.  Do you like him or something?"

            Heero gave the Amun pilot the Death Glare.  "No, but he _is_ a comrade," he snapped back defensively.

            "Saa!"  The Egyptian pilot put his hands behind his head, still holding the spatula.  "Free game then, ne?  He is rather cute, huh?"

            "Don't you even touch him," Heero warned in a grave tone.

            Saraka just snickered.  "Stop me, Yowaiko.  And there's only one way to do that."  His grin cut his face in half.

            Heero gave him a look of disgust before picking up the tray and heading out the door.  "Burn in hell, Saraka.  And _don't_ touch him."

            Saraka snorted with laughter.  "Whatever you say, Yowaiko."  Once the dark-haired pilot was gone, he whispered to himself, "Oh, this shall be fun, Odin, this shall be _fun_."

Guys, I did it!  I finally did it!  I finished part three...  and I swear to all the is in between holy and unholy that I shall have the fourth part done within two weeks.  Sorry it's so slow, but I have my novel, other fics, and school to worry about.  This part didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, but it should get better soon.  Lemons later, for those who care.  Probably part six or seven.  Read and review!


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